


from horny to emotional like going down a water slide

by Kanervakani



Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2020-02-27 21:13:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18747235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kanervakani/pseuds/Kanervakani
Summary: Just a kind of randomized drabble abt Monarda asking Bishop for a dance before they run away from home ¯\_(ツ)_/¯Mona wants to eat bishop out so bad but is also experiencing an existential crisis so this





	from horny to emotional like going down a water slide

The invitation had caught Bishop by surprise. One minute they had been discussing the most recent news from the latest battles, and suddenly Monarda had begun quieting down. First Bishop had thought this to be in fear of waking people up. It was the middle of the night, but they had occupied a large, empty stone canopy that lead to the palace gardens. Bishop was fairly certain that there were no people sleeping nearby. What was it then? 

" Your Highness?" after a moment of full silence, Bishop had addressed them. Monarda was looking away, towards the lanterns in the garden. Only crickets could be heard in the foliage, and no sounds made their way to the pair from the castle. 

Suddenly, standing up from the bench they had been sitting on, Monarda had offered their hand to Bishop and asked them for a dance. 

"I've always wanted to dance for you, 'mam." 

Monardas hands felt like the skin on the nose of a newborn lamb. The way they reached out to Bishop was equally comparable too. The shy curiosity, but exited naivety of someone experimenting with something wholly new to them. What was that exciting new curiosity? Bishop did not know, nor could they read the intention behind Monardas concerned face. 

Bishop rubbed the outer palm of their hand with a rougher, more sandpapery thumb, returning a certain nervous curiosity.  
" Is that so?" their voice was low, almost as quiet as a breathless whisper.  
They decided not to lecture Monarda how wholly inappropriate this was. In their luxurious silken shirt, hanging low enough to show the little dent between their ribs, loose enough to fall off of their shoulder at any moment, with the dance training of an entertainer. Barely apart from courtesans. 

Yet in this empty room, in the light of fires outside, Bishop was unable to resist this unbecoming call. 

Wordlessly Bishop accepted the invitation, getting up and stepping forward on the cold stone floor pulled by Monarda. Instantly the silk clothed royal gem spun themself, wrapping Bishops hand around their waist. Surprised by the sudden approach, Bishop stiffened up, unsure what to do with their hands. They didn't need to think too long, as all coherent thought was thrown away by Monarda slowly sliding their body lower along Bishops, hips steadily moving from side to side. They were soon back up with their free hand gracing Bishops side. 

Bishop couldn't help but despise the cold air against their chest as Monarda pulled away from them. A step apart from Bishop they moved, gracefully, in the same teasing choreography Bishop had seen them dance so many times for favored kings and queens of other lands and lords and ladies of this country. 

Monarda moving their hands along their own body; their legs, sides, neck, felt more like an invitation to touch them than a simple show, though. Bishop was doubtful of this being the true intention behind their movements. Though playful and far from innocent they had always been well behaved. Polite and respectful, maybe even more than the rest of the royal family. This was something completely different from their usual presentation. The thought of this made Bishop's heart miss a beat. 

The way they turned, slowly lifting their arms along their body, lifting them above high, and kept moving their hips as if calling Bishop closer. It was a struggle to tear their eyes away from Monardas thighs and waist, but Bishop had to see their face. The lack of their usual smile both worried them and warmed their body. It had been replaced with a harsh blush, the glossiness of light sweat and a concentrated expression: almost antagonistic. 

There was an intention behind their odd behavior. Something else. A confession, but not the one Bishop was hoping for. Though with the way they ran their hand along Bishops back and looked up at them, lips parted and wet, it might as well have been. The aggression of when Monarda pulled them closer and clasped their hand into Bishops to lift it up into the traditional position of tango dancers. 

This was no longer Monarda dancing for Bishop, no longer their usual entertainment. Bishop was dancing with them. Hardly able to keep their legs straight, perhaps, but dancing nevertheless. What had previously been a sensual performance had begun shifting into an intimate moment of sharing something deeper. Unspoken emotions and a look of loss that Monarda was trying to hide by pressing their face against Bishop's chest. They could feel Monardas hot breath and the foggy wetness of their eyes staining their shirt. The little shaking in their shoulders- bishop had to restrain themself from embracing the little royal brat. 

" Monard-" they tried to speak up in a gentle voice, but it came out almost as shaky as the small body in their arms. They would have struggled to speak nevertheless, but the last straw was the fact that Monarda roughly shook their head in a plead for Bishop to not talk. Bishop had to look up to enable themself to do so, but they pressed their large palm onto Monardas back, pulling them closer in. Monarda, still leading the now slower, less intentional dance mostly consisting of slow spins began to sob openly. It was at that moment that they stopped, and Bishop hunched to press the entirety of Monardas body against their chest. 

Bishop hadn't been this close to someone in years, but somehow this managed to feel completely natural. As if they were lovers who had grown old together or friends who had been apart for years.

Petting their hair, Bishop tried to listen to the incoherent words Monarda was trying to get out. They didn't understand, and at that moment they felt as if it was unnecessary to understand them. 

They would regret this conclusion soon. After walking Monarda to their room, and pressing their covered lips on their hand for the last time, Bishop had headed back to their room. Sleep had felt impossible for hours, but what felt like as soon as they had fallen asleep, they were woken up. 

The palace was in a state of complete disarray. Monarda had been nowhere to be found: no-one had even seen them last evening. The last sighting had been by Bishop, during the disaster of last night. They did not mention the dancing, nor the kings offsprings horrid emotional state. Bishop knew that that was what they would have hoped for. 

Every night after that, they sat in the same shade of that canopy, trying to desperately think, to remember what Monarda had told them through their cries


End file.
